Blurred
by theinfinitemidnight
Summary: Draco and Hermione are best mates, having lived together for five years with their established traditions of movie nights and tickle fights that would undoubtedly have Lucius Malfoy rolling in his grave. Despite what others say, their love for each other is strictly platonic, until one day an event threatens to redefine everything they'd believed about their friendship...


**A/N: I know I'm awful for leaving _Fiery Pretenses_ hanging, but I just got this idea and could not- for the life of me- get it out of my head. At this point, I have no idea where this is going and am not too sure about the specific details of the plot (or if I'm even continuing this)... but here it is. I hope it's not too shabby! x **

**Disclaimer: If Harry Potter was mine, Dramione would be canon.**

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Climbing the final flight of stairs, every fiber of her being screaming and protesting with each footstep, Hermione Granger almost cried in relief when she arrived at the familiar door of the penthouse. Getting her wand out with the last bit of energy that she had within her, the witch muttered the unlocking spell and practically fell through the door. Kicking off her heels, too tired to care where they landed, Hermione dropped her bag with a thud in the entryway. Running a hand through her hair, she knew she looked a sight; she had wisps of hair hanging out from what had once been a meticulous bun in the morning, and the charm concealing her dark circles had worn off as she hadn't bothered to reapply it during her lunch break—or lack thereof. Squeezing her eyes shut, taking a moment to bask in the silence of the flat, Hermione did not notice the tall figure descending from the stairs that led to the upstairs bedrooms.

"Home already, Granger?"

Opening her eyes, the brunette glanced up to see Draco Malfoy descend down the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. Seeing him dressed impeccably—per usual—in his slim fitted, white button down and black business pants that only made him seem taller made her feel slight prickles of irrational annoyance. How was it that he got to spend all day at the office and still return home looking crisp and professional and she looking like a harpy? Glaring up at the blond who now stood a few feet away from her, Hermione crossed her arms, giving him an accusatory look.

"Why do we live so many flights up in this bloody building?" she bit out, knowing fully well that she sounded completely irrational. "And why are you so bloody tall? It's such an inconvenience to have to crane my neck ever time I want to see your blasted face."

Finally getting a good look at her face, Draco bit back the retort about how she had been the one who had wanted to live in Muggle London, and how if they had lived in Wizarding London she would have had no need to climb up stairs due to a broken elevator— as she could have Apparated without the fear of being seen by neighbors. Taking Hermione in from head to toe, he correctly surmised that it had not been a day of pleasantries at the office for her. Not letting her crabbiness affect him, he raised one eyebrow at her, placing his hands in his pockets in a picture of calm.

"Bad day?" he asked simply, meeting and holding her fiery gaze—watching as the anger slowly drained out of her, her petite form slumping.

Watching her so weak, however temporarily, unleashed emotions of protectiveness that he had been forced to come to terms with upon his friendship with her. Stepping forward in three long strides, Draco gathered Hermione into his arms, letting her lean on him. Closing her eyes and burrowing her face into his chest, the brunette witch brought her arms up and wrapped them around his waist, giving a soft sigh. They stood in complete silence for a long moment, Hermione drawing comfort from Draco, and Draco letting her. Reaching out a hand, the blond took out the pin holding her hair together, stroking her soft curls when they fell around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"I know," he replied, tilting her chin up with his index finger.

Feeling his lips brush her forehead, Hermione sighed once more and felt a weight fall off of her shoulders. It was terrible that she took out her frustrations from work on Draco whenever she had a bad day, but he always dealt with her flawlessly. After their history in Hogwarts, their friendship was most certainly unexpected, coming as a surprise to everyone—especially to Draco and Hermione themselves. However, Hermione could no longer imagine her life without the blond wizard. Having lived five years with her, he knew to provide her comfort like no other, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

Glancing up to meet his greys, she gave the tall wizard a small smile.

"I'm okay, I promise. It's just been a long day with the law on House Elf safety being disputed by almost half the Wizengamot and Goodman being an arse like usual…" Hermione trailed off, shaking her head.

"You shouldn't work so hard," Draco replied admonishingly, looking down at her, his face stern. "You know that if you just asked, I could talk to Winters for you and see if he can sway his department in favor of your law. He's influential, and not to mention, I own almost half of his family company."

Over the years, he had come to value Hermione's stubbornness and the way she refused to back down in matters in which she believed in. But her Gryffindor tendency of sainthood, he never understood. Why should she have to spend arduous days in her office, fighting for something that could be passed with just one lunch between himself and Winters?

"And before you start preaching about how you want to do this on your own—" he cut her off, giving her a look, "—think about what you could be doing with the time that you're working towards this law. You can pass it and work on other initiatives; wouldn't that be so much better?"

Pulling away from Draco's embrace slightly so that she could easily look up at him, Hermione gave him an exasperated look.

"You know how I feel about this, Draco. I just have to do this with my own willpower. If I pull strings and play the 'Wizarding War Heroine' card just to get things done, my credibility is going to go down and my career is going to sink," she explained for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Plus," she added in afterthought, rolling her eyes, "If I have you go to Winters for me, he's only going to keep going on about his ridiculous theory that we fancy each other."

Knowing that she was never going to budge on the issue, Draco exhaled and dropped it, reminding himself to try later once more. Giving a smirk at Hermione's words, he suddenly reached down and swooped her up—laughing at her small squeal of surprise. Bringing his lips down close to Hermione's ear, he whispered, "Why Granger, doesn't he know we're _madly_ in love with each other?" as his legs led them over to the living room.

When he sat down on the leather couch, draping her legs over his, it was only then that Hermione slapped Draco lightly on the chest, muttering "Prat!" – despite the smile that threatened to form on her lips. Feeling utterly relaxed with her shoes off and hair down, Hermione and Draco fell into relaxed conversation that ended up—as always—with her tucked under his arm, both eventually falling asleep in the comfort of each other's presence.


End file.
